


Where There's Smoak

by jedichick04



Series: A Brush With Fire [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: All the Flirting, Arrow Season 2.5, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 04:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4290078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedichick04/pseuds/jedichick04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity Smoak was trying to kill him, that’s all there was to it.</p>
<p>After all the enemies and threats he’d faced the last seven years, his death was going to be at the hands of a tiny blonde computer genius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where There's Smoak

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt fill for Anonymous who requested “Fire, flame, excessive heat.” Set somewhere in the middle of Arrow Season 2.5.

Felicity Smoak was trying to kill him, that’s all there was to it.

After all the enemies and threats he’d faced the last seven years, his death was going to be at the hands of a tiny blonde computer genius.

Starling City’s very own Arrow, the man who was steadily decreasing the city’s criminal population with the help of his closest friends, had no defense against the charms of one Felicity Megan Smoak.

And it was about to get a whole lot worse. 

 

* * *

 

It was unseasonably warm in Starling City, even for summertime. The last week had been hot and miserable, and it stayed that way even at night. Oliver had only gone out in the suit with Roy a couple of times, and they hadn’t patrolled for very long before grumbling their way back to the Foundry. At least the Foundry was relatively cool. But the lack of patrols left Oliver with more free time than he’d been used to. Felicity had been the one to suggest they use the time he  _wasn’t_  using as the Arrow to kick up the Business School 101 lessons she’d been giving him.

And if Oliver had leapt at the opportunity to spend more time alone with Felicity, well, what was wrong with spending time with a good friend? (He was firmly ignoring the knowing looks Digg had been shooting at him with increasing regularity as the summer progressed. Roy’s, too, for that matter.)

So that brought Oliver to Felicity’s townhouse tonight, fighting the urge to fidget as he waited for the door to open. It wasn’t the first time he’d been here. It wasn’t going to be the last, either, unless he could miraculously learn all the business knowledge that had so far eluded him in one night. And yes, there might be a part of him that enjoyed the fact that he’d have to come back. There was something… _nice_  about the evenings where it was just Felicity and him. Two friends. Alone in her home.

He was about to knock again when the door swung open. “Oliver! Hi. Frack, is it 5:00 already?” Felicity asked in a rush. He was taken aback by how frazzled she looked–there were wispy blonde curls around her face, the rest pulled up in her normal ponytail, and–he didn’t think he’d ever seen her wear  _that_ tiny Boston Red Soxs tank top or  _those_ shorts–if they were actually shorts? Was there a limit to how short shorts could be before they stopped being  _called_  shorts?

He swallowed hard as he dragged his gaze back up and found a smile. “I brought dinner,” he said, holding up the bag in one hand, and adjusting his grip on the drink carrier in the other. “It’s just Big Belly Burger. I stopped by after leaving the Found–”

He was cut off as she grabbed the drink carrier from him, then took one out and pressed it to the back of her neck. “You’re my hero,” she sighed as she took a step back, drink still pressed against her neck. “Come on in. My A/C went out this morning and I’ve been trying to get someone out to fix it. But there’s a rash of A/C failures thanks to this stupid heat wave, so…” She shrugged and put both drinks on the kitchen table. “I’ve been trying to multi-task job hunting and cleaning out my DVR and remembering all the ways I used to stay cool growing up in Vegas. It’s a different kind of heat here. I like Vegas heat better. But this heat is nothing like Boston. Of course, the humidity is different there…”

Oliver set the bag of food on the table, then headed towards where Felicity was pulling plates down from the cupboard–and found himself staring again at how little Felicity was wearing. Only with her back to him, his gaze could linger. He took in the strands of her blonde hair that had worked their way free from her ponytail and how they were beginning to curl from the sweat that glistened Felicity’s skin; the slight tan lines on her exposed back; and further down, the way her shorts hugged the curves of her–

“Oh! Here you go.” Felicity handed him a plate, momentarily startled by how close he had wandered, but recovering quickly. “I hope you remembered extra fries. It may be hot out, but I’m starving.”

He made himself comfortable in one of the chairs before he opened up the bag and began passing out the food. “There’s more than enough,” he assured her. And there should be–he’d long had her normal order memorized. 

Felicity hummed in contentment as she took the first bite of her burger. “Thank you,” she murmured after she swallowed, flashing a quick smile in his direction. He nodded, taking a bite of his own burger as she started telling him about the TV show she’d been clearing off her DVR. It was a welcome distraction from just how much he’d appreciated how those shorts looked on her.

 

* * *

 

“You look hot,” Felicity commented as she finished up her burger. Oliver whipped his head up just in time to see her hand fly to her mouth. “ _Heat_  hot, not  _hot_  hot, though that blue t-shirt is  _working_  for you and,  _wow_ , I am just going to–” She forcefully took a deep breath as she closed her eyes. Oliver ducked his head as a huff of laughter escaped. Then he reached over and lightly brushed the top of Felicity’s hand with his fingers.

Her eyes flew open as he felt a spark of something like electricity where the tips of his fingers met her hand. She didn’t look away; instead her blue eyes held his steadily. They remained like that for what seemed like an eternity; eyes locked on one another, Oliver’s fingers still barely brushing her hand. They both took a breath at the same time and leaned towards each other, their eyes still locked…

The shriek of some kids outside startled both of them, and the moment was lost. They both pulled back. Oliver reached for her discarded burger wrapper and tossed it in the paper bag with his own wrapper, taking the moment to gather himself. What the hell was he doing?

Felicity pushed her glasses up her nose and smiled brightly as if they hadn’t almost–done something they probably shouldn’t. “We should go get some ice cream before we get to studying. There’s a little ice cream shop about two blocks away.” She stood up, taking their plates and depositing them into the sink. She flicked on the faucet for a moment, taking a little of the water and smoothing back her loose curls with it. 

She grabbed her purse off the counter and turned back to face Oliver, who had taken care of their trash in the meantime. “It might actually be cooler outside,” she commented, wrinkling her nose. “Sorry. I finally got someone to commit to coming out tomorrow. It should be as good as new tomorrow night when you come,” Felicity informed him, tugging his arm to get him moving towards the door. “Come on. I’m sure you could get to the ice cream shop in two long strides if I wasn’t with you, but take pity and smaller steps?”

“You’re not–you’re wearing that?” Oliver asked. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he tried not to wince. He’d been around enough women to know that commenting on clothes was  _not_  the smartest move.

But Felicity just brushed a hand down her tank top after glancing down. “I didn’t get any of my burger on me, did I?” she asked, then shook her head and shrugged as she opened the door. “I’m past the point of caring today. And April–she’s the owner of the ice cream shop–she’s seen me at my worst before. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s going to be looking at  _me_.” She shot a downright  _flirty_  grin at him as she tugged on his arm again, and Oliver couldn’t help his answering smile.

And if he glared at a few people looking at Felicity the wrong way while they were walking, well, he’d blame that on the heat.

 

* * *

 

He thought her outfit was going to be the hardest thing to deal with.

Turns out he was very wrong.

Because “slightly disheveled, melted from the heat and wearing way fewer clothes than normal” Felicity turned out to be  _nothing_  compared to “attempting to lick ice cream off a cone faster than it melted” Felicity.

It was melting off the cone faster than she could keep up with it, and there had already been several drops that hit her chest, just above the scoop of her tank top. Then there was the way it was melting all over her lips and tongue. “Are you sure you don’t need to sit down?” Oliver asked again, glancing down at her as they walked along. “I don’t mind.”

Felicity waved at him dismissively with her free hand. “It’s part of the fun,” she said with a shrug, licking the ice cream on the cone, then her lips.

One of the mint chips remained stubbornly on the corner of her mouth.

“Here, you’ve got–” he said, pointing to the corner of his mouth. She just tipped her head slightly at him. He reached over and swiped at the spot on her mouth with his thumb, lightly brushing her lips in the process. Her blue eyes darkened slightly behind the lenses, licking her lips slowly. He didn’t drop his thumb right away. Their walk had slowed to a stop on the sidewalk. His own ice cream had melted into a soup in the paper cup he was holding, and hers was still dripping, and he just couldn’t look away again–

“Oliver?”

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he took a deep breath. His hand dropped from Felicity’s face as he turned around and opened his eyes. “Jean. Hey,” he greeted Jean Loring, the lawyer who had defended his mother in court nearly a year ago, and who was also an old friend of his mother’s. “How are you?”

“Trying to stay cool,” she said with a laugh, leaning in and kissing Oliver on the cheek. She fixed him with a more serious look, leaving Oliver just enough time to brace himself before she said, “I’m so sorry about your mother, Oliver.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, the pain of the loss still raw, though a hell of a lot better than it’d been a month ago. “It’s still hard to believe she’s gone.”

He felt the light touch at his elbow, and glanced down to see Felicity silently offering her support and reassurance. He gave her a grateful look before he put his hand on her shoulder. “Jean, this is Felicity Smoak. She’s my–she’s a good friend of mine. Felicity, this is Jean Loring. She was Mom’s friend. And lawyer,” he added a little unnecessarily, because Felicity already knew that. Felicity knew the players in his life better than he did sometimes. 

“Good to meet you,” Felicity said to Jean, the other woman echoing the sentiment while Oliver tried to ignore that he’d wanted to call Felicity something other than just his friend. They spoke with Jean for another minute, Jean wishing him luck with Queen Consolidated, and then they were walking back to Felicity’s home. They’d managed to finish their melted ice cream by the time they made it in the front door. Felicity was laughing at the mess she’d made of things, and joked that she should have gotten it in a cup like he had. “Although you still have a little–” she said before she actually  _licked her finger_  and swiped at a spot on his cheek.

He nearly purred at the touch, leaning into it, but unlike the moment on the sidewalk, Felicity didn’t seem to notice. Instead she had already moved away, grabbing a washcloth to clean herself up. “We’ll get started in a minute,” she called over her shoulder from her spot by the sink in the kitchen. “We’ll get you whipped into shape yet.”

By the time she returned to the table, he’d taken a few deep breaths and steadied himself again, shoving down the feelings she’d stirred up in him. They settled into their new routine of her teaching and quizzing and him answering the best he could and feeling a flash of pride every time he got an answer right and she  _beamed_  at him. And if something like a thrill passed through him as their legs brushed under the table, well, he’d keep that to himself, along with just how much he appreciated her ass in those shorts.

He was a little disappointed when her air conditioning was fixed the next night and the shorts didn’t make a reappearance. He suggested going for ice cream anyways. The smile on her face made his heart skip a damn beat, and he knew he wanted to keep making her smile like that, even if it did make him forget to breathe.

 

* * *

 

Felicity Smoak was trying to kill him. If he had any sense of self-preservation, he’d run as far away from her–her friendship, her babbles, her laughter, her sunshine, her impossible goodness, her  _everything–_ as he could get.

But Oliver knew one thing: he’d never been less interested in running away.


End file.
